The Nightshades
by C. Sphire
Summary: Tasked to deliver a letter to the Listener in Bravil, a young Cicero is drawn to her stammering and shy apprentice Beatriz. A year his junior and not apart of the Dark Brotherhood he is only allowed to help protect her from afar. But longing for company his age Cicero can't help but to bend the rules, to see why she had the Night Mother's interest as well as his. Cicero/Future DB
1. The Nightshades: Chapter 1

**Games Elder Scroll Series Skyrim  
Pairings: Cicero / Future Dragonborn - Listener  
Location: Bravil 188 4E (well before events at Helgen in 4E 201)**

**Status: Complete  
(All Chapters 1 - 6 posted on Deviant Art under my account CSphire)**

_Full Summary: Tasked with delivering an important message to the Listener Alisanne Dupre in Bravil, a young and cocky Cicero let's curiosity get the best of him. The Listener's stammering and seemingly meek apprentice Beatriz, he soon learns is but a year his junior. She is also an innocent, not apart of the Dark Brotherhood. At least not yet according to Alisanne. And even though Cicero is ordered, during his short stay to help protect yet keep his distance from her apprentice, he cannot help but bend the rules. To not just find out why Beatriz holds the Night Mother's interest but his as well._

**Chapter One:**

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_5th of Last Seed, 4E 188_

We received word today - the Wayrest Sanctuary was raided and destroyed by the corsairs. There were no survivors.

There are now only three active Dark Brotherhood strongholds remaining: The Cheydinhal Sanctuary, here in the Imperial Province; a remote Sanctuary located in a forest in Skyrim; and the Corinthe Sanctuary of Elsweyr.

The Black Hand has ordered the Corinthe Sanctuary closed, and its members integrated into our own ranks here, in Cheydinhal. I will embrace those new family members as warmly as I was, when I first made my home here.

-Cicero's Journal - Volume II

~.~

Cicero hated being the youngest among his brothers and sisters of the Black Hand. Mainly due to how some of them snickered over how their Speaker Rasha expected him to always be the errand boy more often than the lowliest of assassins.

_Well, today the joke is on all of them!_

He thought with a cocky grin and puffed up his strong broad chest. It took everything in him not to strut down the road. For true, he might be only nearing his seventeenth year and was still the smallest assassin of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary but today he was about to complete and important task. He was to deliver a sealed letter to only the Listener herself. Finally he was going to formally meet the leader of the Black hand, his ultimate superior only short of their beloved Night Mother.

As the town of Bravil came into view, from the outside to Cicero it seemed as well off as any other city of Cyrodiil. But as he crossed the bridge and passed through the gate behind the city's walls he found everything a little bit rougher about the edges than expectation. The roads were gravel at best and just dirt in others. Nothing was paved and boardwalks lined the fronts of shops. Most of the homes were stacked upon them or one another to three stories high. Besides the Great Chapel of Mara and the castle all of the other structures were made of aged grey wood and greening plaster with rock foundations. Still Cicero liked it all the same. The touch of seedy here and there made this smaller town a far more exciting location than Cheydinhal. Or so he thought. A place for some real trouble and in turn all the more fun.

_Finally! Some-ooooh!  
_  
Easily distracted, Cicero honed in and deftly snatched a sweetroll from a market stand with a smirk and all without the guards or anyone noticing. But more amusement than pinching and gobbling down his favored snack around the corner would have to come later.

Recalling Rasha's directions Cicero easily enough located the Listener's house. It was slightly larger than most others, two stories tall and not far from the Lady Luck Statue. At finding it, in happiness Cicero gave into another moment of silliness since nobody at the moment was about to see.

An indulgence his older childhood and literal fool for a friend always gave into without a care. Even though they saw one another rarely now, Cicero hoped Atticus with such an esteemed position, performing for the court in the Imperial City, would put aside some of his crueler and more nastier habits. After all the fool had no need to hunt now and therefore no opportunity to torment any animals instead of simply killing them for coin and supper.

Pushing aside those uncomfortable moments he witnessed when hunting with his friend years ago, Cicero danced playfully up and down the stairs before knocking. He also cleared his throat and wiped away the grin from his face and crumbs upon his dark clothing. Trying to take on a more appropriate look of a grim assassin. But as he waited a nagging sensation washed over him as if he had forgotten something. He hated the feeling since it always resulted in him getting yelled at by his Speaker or other superior. Checking his satchel one more time he let out a breath of relief. The thick letter was still there and the red wax seal intact. When the Breton lady of the house answered the door Cicero could not help the wide grin from returning. Even though her pale sage eyes widened at the sight of him upon her doorstep in alarm.

"Mistress Alisanne Dupre? Is it really you? Such an honor to meet you Lis-"

"Shut up," Mistress Dupre hissed, grabbed upon the front of his hooded black cloak and yanked him inside. "Are you an idiot or did Rasha fail to mention to come after dark! And why are you wearing those in broad daylight!" She pointed to his enchanted shrouded gauntlets which he obediently took off and stuffed away.

He opened his mouth to try and answer that indeed the Khajiit did.

_Or maybe it really did slip my mind after all. Which is it? Oh dear! So that was what I forgot! Damm! Well so much for a good first impression._

He worried away and gave his Mistress at least a contrite look. Seeing it Alisanne's expression softened and with a weary sigh she checked up and down the street. Finding nobody upon it she closed the front door and grumbled, "Just my poor luck! My apprentice will be back soon from gathering ingredients. Sadly it's about the only aspect of alchemy she does not mess up. Still a bright girl in other schools of magicka." Cicero noticed how the Listener started to glow with pride as she continued, "My little bee took right to learning flames and healing but I don't dare teach her more just yet. Too much power too soon could make her become far too dangerous for anyone's good. Come along and let this be quick!"

As she pulled at the knee of her green robes to start up the stairs Cicero wondered aloud, "Why? Is she not a sister, Listener?"

"Doesn't anyone tell you anything?" She gave him a bewildered and pitying look over her shoulder. To his silence she paused when they reached the second floor hallway and reassured. "All you need to know is she's to not be harmed and needs to be protected at all costs."

"I don't understand. If she is not a sister then-"

"You don't need to. It is the will of the Night Mother. All you need to do is obey her command."

"Of course! Of course!" Cicero agreed readily with wide eyes as they started to walk again.

"Good because hopefully for my sake and hers she will never be needed for more than what you do anytime soon," Mistress Dupre muttered cryptically under her breath but not quiet enough. Cicero close at her heels, silent as the dead beamed over how the oh great and powerful Listener did not notice how he heard everything. At least so he thought as she jerked to a stop and he crashed into her.

"Pardon me! Sorry Mistress!"

The short middle aged Breton fussed to throw back her shoulder long silver streaked brown hair from her full face. Then turning with a sigh and tapping a finger at his chest she emphasize each and every word. "Just remember, for now she is innocent still and from a good family. I will not have someone like you corrupting her just yet. An easy thing perhaps, since you look to be of the same age."

"Corrupt? Even with the briefest of visits? But I can be-have!"

"Behave he says," She snorted softly back and grinned at how his deep voice had cracked. Shaking her head the Listener led them to the door at the end of the hall. Unlocking it and entering her office she squinted at him again. "I think I remember you from my visit at Last Rain's Hand now. Cicero is it not? The one who completed the Arena contract?" To his rapid nod she sat down with a small smile. "It was well done and just how old exactly are you boy?"

"Boy!" His voice choosing to go high again at that moment did not help his argument. At her cocked brow he immediately stopped frowning and straightened. "Why sixteen Listener! Oh please, it would be so nice to have some company of my age even-"

"No," she cut him off and stuck out her hand. At his confused and hurt look she reminded playfully, "The letter or is there another reason for you to come and disturb my peace?"

"Sorry Listener only this very important letter." With a blush and his shoulders slumping Cicero patted down his dark robes before remembering it was in the satchel and handed the bulky sealed message over. As she started to open it he sighed out loud, "Humf! Doubt she's of the same age anyways."

"She is indeed not but a year your junior and still no! Best you are not even here when she returns."

"But-"

"I'm not doing this to be mean. The Night Mother simply does not wish her to be a part of the family just yet. Why you think? I'm guessing with exception of the Shadowscales and you she prefers assassins with some age."

"Ah! So she has not murdered anyone yet," Cicero declared cheerfully.

"Correct, till then she is not strong enough in Mother's eyes. Plus you and I both know this life is not-well it's not an easy one. Especially as of late with all of our losses."

Shifting from one foot to another Cicero agreed, "True. So you are preparing her now? Does she know who you really are? Suspect?"

"By Sithis no and I hope not. I've tried my best to keep her completely in the dark of our business. True, I am your Listener but I also strive to always follow the rules as any other of our brothers and sisters. Telling her would break a tenant would it not? Again, only once she has killed can we bring her into the fold."

"The second one yes but what if she never-"

"Oh but she will," Mistress Dupre reassured with a certainty that only Sithis himself could offer. Meeting his eyes she added smiling darkly, "It's in her to kill. It's only a matter of time."

"In that case it would be so very interesting to meet her now. Why in fact if we were to become friends perhaps when she does join us she will find it less um... daunting?"

"No."

Not failing to sway her from decision Cicero tried in earnest to give her the saddest of looks.

To his sad humming she paused and looked up from the letter exasperated. "Silence! So I may concentrate and compose a response. Now sit and stop fidgeting."

Cicero bit back the whine at the idea of sitting so very still. With nothing to do but wait he reluctantly moved to do as ordered. Upon reaching the chair however the back door opened then closed. Causing both assassins to freeze and meet one another's eyes growing large. Mistress Dupre's in sheer alarm. Cicero's in wicked joy.

"She's back! Your apprentice is back!" Cicero cried out cheerfully in a stage whisper. "Please Listener! Oh please let me distract her for-"

"Shhh!" Alisanne hissed and started turning over papers. Presumably more correspondences from other members of their order.

Biting his lower lip Cicero obeyed, waited and watched his Mistress for what to do next. That and it was rather amusing to see the Leader of the Dark Hand so utterly flustered.

"M-mistress? I had no la-luck finding nigh-nightshades. Are you ho-home?" The Listener's apprentice called out from downstairs and they could hear her starting to explore the house.

"Lock the door! Be quick!"

Cicero jumped to Alisanne's mouthed command yet with a pout turned to obey and not a moment too soon. For shortly after he clicked it secure there was a soft tapping at the door.

"M-mistress? Ca-company again? S-sorry to di-do-dis... disturb you."

_Oh she sounds pretty! Even more so with that sweet stammering voice!_

Cicero exclaimed silently, yet as commanded he dared not to make even a single sound. Instead he turned to give another pleading look back to the Listener and pondered.

_Humm… should I use tears? I do wonder if that would-no… no don't be silly! That would be far too much._

He offered instead an expression filled with pure sorrow. The emotional manipulation however did not work. The look the Listener returned was not kind at all but her voice was as she called back. "Oh don't be Beatriz my dear. Just head back downstairs and start work on preparing what you've collected with the mortar and pestle. I just have an important letter to write and send off with this messenger."

"Do you want m-me to try to m-make another p-pa-potion to-too?"

"Goodness no! Not without my supervision again just yet. Now do as told and for the love of lady luck stay away from my new retort and alembic. I will try to be down shortly."

"As you wa-wish, sssorry ta-to have di-disturbed you and for the am-am-well sa-sorry again."

And with that her apprentice's steps faded away. Cicero's frown deepened and he tried one more time for Mistress Dupre to permit him to formally meet and speak with Beatriz. Hoping perhaps that at least the young woman would find him amusing.

Because ever since the loss of the Burma Sanctuary everyone at Cheydinhal was upon edge. Cicero being one of the few survivors to escape by pure luck of running an errand for the Speaker there had dealt with the deaths in his own way. Trying to honor his fellow Black Hand brothers and sisters by telling others jokes and stories. A way to never forget them but nobody was amused. Everyone was also a little bit paranoid. So much so the Black Hand stopped hiring outside messengers. Hence Cicero found himself once more the errand boy when not reading or trying to make poisons and doing the very simplest of contracts.

Sighing the Listener explained, "I don't know how but she made the alembic explode and fractured the retort so bad it can't collect anything of use. Do you have any idea how hard it is to replace master quality items such as those?"

"Oh-oh yes! Very hard. In fact I do know quite a few things about alchemy! Why according to Synnolian Tunifus and Anarenen with alembic one places the arcane properties of natural and supernatural substances to be distilled from their raw form by simply infusing them in water. Well usually water-but then one just heats the alembic until vapor is produced. The vapor is then condenses in a separate container allowing the precipitation from the distilled elements with the desired magical properties. Now the retort could have gotten plugged perhaps if I may assist her-"

"Nice try, again… not yet. And please not another word or I'll send you outside. Where you can wait in that bright sun and from the looks of that red hair of yours, probably burn to a crisp."

Sitting back down, Mistress Dupre ignored his huff and started reading. What she did not see was Cicero's outrage melt slowly into a smirk. An idea coming to mind he forced one last sad look and opened his mouth. "But Listener-"

"Outside, do so without her seeing you and wait."

Jumping up from the chair and to attention, Cicero asked, "And what if she catches me? Whatever shall I do then?"

"Tell her you are the messenger. Now shoo," Mistress Dupre waved him off without pulling her eyes off of the report.

It took all of his self-control not to laugh as he quietly unlocked the door to dutifully carry out the order. But before he slipped out, he grinned and whispered, "Very well Mistress. I will try my best to not let her see me. Oh yes, I will certainly _try_."

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**(Please feel free to comment. I enjoy feedback.)**


	2. The Nightshades: Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

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Beatriz in her Mistress's dimly lit alchemy room could not shake the feeling of being watched. She tried to concentrate on chopping up the arrowroot to put into the mortar. Grinding would come later with the pestle to get it to just the right consistency or so she hoped. Trying to appear casual she looked side to side while wiping her brow but spotted no one.

The sun outside had been so hot, but the hood she wore protected her fair skin from the sun and hid the tiny points to her ears. The later a stubborn trait passed down through her mother's line. And despite Beatriz's dislike of them, she had let her mother convince her once more to cut her simple black hair short again. True it kept her cooler for the summer and it was easier to wash but Beatriz usually preferred to keep her hair in Nordic braids.

In fact it was her father, who just past her seventh birthday came to visit had taught her how to weave hair. It was about one of the only memories she had of him. Since so far due to other pressing duties he was unable to come for another visit. Still the memory of sitting upon the big bear of the man's knee as he patiently showed her upon the new doll he had given her always made her smile. His deep voice which had frightened her at first had become soothing with rumbling words of encouragement and praise.

But for the summer Beatriz gave in once more. Only because her mother sweetened the deal in allowing her to work at the forge with Feildus her step-father as much as she wanted. Of course after her morning lessons on Morndas through Fredas with Mistress Dupre were done first.

The corners of Beatriz's lips twitched in amusement. For her mother Ysabel the Bard did not know that those lessons went beyond just reading, writing, speech and how to conduct oneself as a proper Imperial lady. Besides the loathed alchemy lessons, Beatriz seriously doubted her Mother would approve of the archery, tracking and hunting ones. In fact she would be shocked to learn if her daughter was learning from Mistress Dupre how to also handle a dagger, cast a few spells and brew more poisons than potions. And Beatriz finding all of this very fun indeed was not about to correct her mother of her naive assumptions.

Now feeling a drop of sweat slide down her slightly upturned nose and hit her hand she thought to take the hood off. With only one three tiered candelabra nearby to light her work. The slightly cooler windowless small room was filled with deep and dark shadows. But feeling the hairs rising upon the back of her neck gave Beatriz pause. Even though the sensation warmed her now she was leery from experience that it was usually a rather good warning that danger was drawing near.

It was a two weeks ago on a cooler misty Middas morning when it happened last. Beatriz was half way to Mistress Dupre's house when the chill of dread washed over her just after passing the Lady Luck statue. As always Beatriz stopped to receive its blessing but the whisper she always heard when there came off urgent and warning. Trembling Beatriz scanned the courtyard about her and tried to listen harder for anything. Ears pricking the whisper as usual never became any clearer. The thick obscured air around her pressing in revealed nothing. Looking back from under her hood again and again Beatriz could not shake the feeling of being stalked even though she saw or heard no one following. Even before the time the outline of Alisanne's house came into view Beatriz was already rushing to get inside. It made little difference. Because when she was just about to reach the back stairs, the attack finally came.

From behind a hand clapped over Beatriz's mouth before she could even think to scream. The arm about her waist yanked her off her feet and into the nearby brush. She was then shoved to the ground so hard it knocked the wind out of her lungs.

"Even without that blessing you're lucky, you know? Or maybe not-it all depends," a Nord woman with the silkiest of voices whispered and towered over her. Pinning Beatriz down with the very lightest of blue eyes. So much one could even call them icy. Beatriz's more grey than blue ones grew huge in alarm as the woman calmly dropped to one knee and drew a very dark, sharp and curved ebony dagger from the folds of her black robes.

So busy with trying to get the air back into her lungs Beatriz could not move let alone try to get away. She did not even feel the point of the wicked looking blade at first. When it finally stung against her ribs, for once the words rushed easily out after a loud and painful draw of breath. "Depends on what?"

"On what you are doing here. A bit early to be calling."

Beatriz's heart started to slow and it felt like something was draining out of her from just the point touching. It left her to wonder if the blade was enchanted or if she only imagined the shimmer of red upon its ebony surface. There would be no running as the Nord woman gave her a wolfish smile. The only way to escape was to talk. Unfortunately her stammer decided to return.

"B-b-Beatriz. Ah...ap-ap-pa-apprentice to M-mistress Dupre. P-pah-please don't hur-hurt her!"

The slightly older Nord's face blanked in alarm as she simply whispered, "Beatriz? You're her apprentice? Dammit!" Drawing up the knife the Nord growled and drove it into the ground by Beatriz's head.

Beatriz flinched and cried out in alarm. But the next thing she got was a hard yank back to her feet and shoved against the nearest tree trunk. The Nord pressed in close as a lover with smooth words purring at Beatriz's ear.

"Look… you didn't see me here. In fact I'm you're friend. Do you catch my drift, little girl? This has all just been an unfortunate misunderstanding. Got it?"

"Y-yes!" Of course Beatriz had agreed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Pressing into the tree in a vain effort to get away from her touch.

"Good. But I seriously doubt you understand just how very lucky you are. So let me make things perfectly clear. Breathe a word of this… to anyone and I will find out. And believe me when I say, we know. We always find out everyone's dirty little secrets and for a prayer and a price we take care of it." The woman then paused to brush a thumb over Beatriz's lips even bumping over her crooked front teeth. Beatriz hated how she yelped in alarm and the taller Nord laughed because of it and issued one last warning. "Now scamper off little rabbit before someone else catches, kills, guts and hangs you up like one!"

Coming back to the present and staring at the knife in her hand Beatriz doubted running for the door would help. She thought to call for her Mistress but worried it could also draw out whoever was watching. She hoped she was wrong. Hoped it was just like the whisper she sometimes heard by the statue. That as her Mistress had stressed, was nothing to worry about. That nobody now was hiding in the shadows. There was only one way to find out and even the odds. Thankfully, this time Beatriz at least had a weapon. Squaring her shoulders she was determined to make use of it along with applying the other far more interesting lessons Mistress Dupre taught her for just this kind of situation.

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Cicero could not resist his curiosity in finding out why this girl held the Night Mother's interest and protection. But he also just wanted to see hopefully a comely face near his age. What he could see of it under her hood and bent over her work seemed pretty enough. True her lips were a little thin and she frowned far too much when they were not tight in concentration. Still from the shadows he watched to see if more of her face would be revealed as she awkwardly cut up some lavender sprigs. He could only shake his head at how she put the stems into the mortar and not the buds instead.

But Cicero smiled when Beatriz blew out the candles, submerging them in utter darkness. Quickly, he realized why she had possibly made the mistake. She was nervous but more importantly she knew she was not alone. The lack of light was her chance to make a run for it. Without thinking he chuckled, "Clever-clever girl."

As silence followed Cicero wondered why she did not ask next, "Who's there?" Or demand he identify himself.

_Odd, she's not fleeing either. I wonder why?_

Since they were of no use, he kept his eyes closed to adjust hopefully to the lack of light quicker than her. The feel of her fingers bumping then brushing over his chest next had him gasping. And before he could act too late found out he should not have revealed his location to her with his big mouth.

At the length of the knife she had been using now pressed firmly against his jugular, Cicero's heart tripped in panic. Yet he had enough sense to not fight but instead hold very still as any move on both their parts could very well end him and quickly. Seconds slowly passed, her excited and nervous breaths fill his ears over the drumming of his pulse. Finding himself still very alive and even excited he laughed nervously in relief.

"Wah-what's sssoo fun-funny?"

_She hesitates. Good it means she has more questions._

He mentally assessed and tried for more charm. "Oh just you're a very clever girl indeed! But no need for this at all! For I, as one could say work for your dearest Mistress much like you as well while learning all sorts of interesting things."

"Liar! D-did she send you?"

"Who? I don't understand. Who here would dare hurt you? One so sweet but oh sooo… deadly."

"N-never mind! Was to-two wah-weeks ago. Wah-why are you here then! Speak! Or I'll… I'll… ki-ki-ki…" Flustered her stammer grew worse and she gave up on a sigh and just pressed harder.

Cicero winced as the edge just started to break his skin. Thankfully the blade meant for just ingredients seemed quite dulled with use. Still given its location he took her threat very seriously. Not personally, in fact he admired her dedication since he also would do anything to protect the Listener.

"Please, I mean you no harm! Mistress Dupre visits Cheydinhal does she not?" He reasoned, waited and feeling no change in pressure at his neck continued. "I serve her there and sadly with not one of my age. All so old and sooo serious! I would have said hello, made most polite introductions to you."

"Wha-what is-"

"Oh I would have, I swear! But she said I was not to see you. Now that it is dark, thanks to you I can keep my word!" He chuckled nervously again. The blade eased back only slightly. Smiling he tried more flattery, "Alchemist eh? You must have great potential for Mistress Dupre to take you on. In fact I bet you could even teach me some things."

Her brief laugh made his heart patter wildly before it froze at her next annoyed words, "N-nice tr-try. Actually I'm ter-terrible at it. Ha-hate it. Tha-this is more fun. Ssso wah-why ssshould I li-li-"

"Let me live?" He guessed to spare her some embarrassment although he did not mind the stammer at all. In fact he hoped to render her speechless with what he playfully asked next. "Tell me then, what do you desire of me?"

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"D-d-desire?" Beatriz trembled at the very word. Then thought perhaps the darkness was what made her uncommonly bold as she drew closer to him. Eyes adjusting to the lack of light, she could only make out just the strong outlines of his face and bright grin. Looking into his dark mischievous eyes she felt her tongue unlock to murmur, "Now there's an idea. B-but first do you know why she has hired men to guard her ho-home?"

"Silly question... the skooma dealers even I have heard they are causing everyone to get rather nervous. Anything else? I'm always eager."

"Ew! Is that you-your idea of fa-flirting?"

"Maybe," he squeaked out as her hold on the knife adjusted.

Beatriz giggled suddenly at how high his voice could get. When he called her a clever girl it was deep and it sent a warm and terrifying shiver through her. She also liked how when he got excited he could rush out so many words, so very clearly and with hardly a pause.

"So you ra-really um wah-wanted to spa-speak with me? B-but I'm not good at... well at ta-talking."

"Oh yes! Like I said, so very nice to see-well no that is not right. Meet! Yes so very nice to meet someone about my age-so very nice to meet you!"

_Of course says the boy with knife to his throat._

Beatriz snorted to not laugh at him again. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to get a better look but it was still too dark to make out any colors or details. His straight toothed perfect smile looked to be kind and playful so she gave a shrug.

"Va-very w-well, ssso ka-keep ta-talking."

"Ah well," he stalled since he seemed to not have planned that far ahead. "Um just there is one thing. Bit of a pain really. Um… would you be so kind as to remove your blade first?"

Although she could feel and hear him swallow hard under it Beatriz hesitated due to what he was wearing. It was the same kind of robes as the one who attacked her from before.

"The Nord wo-woman w-wore this."

"Who? The who you think sent-eep!"

Beatriz winced at her carelessness but did not let up on the increased pressure. As he struggled not to move Beatriz carefully reviewed the facts. If he really wanted her dead why hang around? Why chat her up? Why not try and disarm her? That and she could be wrong about the color he was wearing given how dark it was. Still the hood framing his face and the flowing robes covering his body did little to calm her down.

"I... I rather not ja-just yet."

"Why? I'm only you Mistress's lowly personal messenger. I mean you no harm Beatriz."

Her small gasp at how he drew out saying her name made him chuckle. The outline of his now maddening smile had her swallowing hard. She did not dare move or say a word. Her stammering voice would only betray her and embarrass her even more. Instead she did what she did best. She said nothing and just listened as he continued.

"In fact I'm willing to do anything you wish to prove it. Like I said, I'm always eager."

Recalling what he said before she asked, "You s-said sssomething about age?"

"Yes, sixteen I am. Youngest among the-well let's just say, who I all work for that is." He let out am odd mix between a laugh and a hum before adding, "Mistress Dupre also mentioned we are but a year apart."

"No. No I just-just... days ago had another um-"

"Ah! It must have slipped her mind then."

"Y-yes but..." She wanted to say more. To defend her Mistress but since the Nord woman's attack then threat Beatriz felt her stammer had worsened. The lie did not help matters either. She honestly did not know why she did. What did one year matter really?

As if sensing her struggle the messenger reassured, "Our Mistress has been so busy as of late. Still you should not shy from reminding her." But then he ruined it after pausing to perhaps tease with, "My-my you don't like to talk much do you?"

"R-rather listen," Beatriz shot back with a bitter smirk. "Own-only f-fools never know w-when to shut-up."

He did laugh but at the joke or her, Beatriz was not certain. Not until his reached up to brush then cup her cheek and whispered, "I like to do that too. Nothing wrong with listening-nothing wrong with that at all. Still I think you have a lovely voice. Now what may I do to get you to put down that blade?"

His hand there was rough but warm and nice. His voice once again was deep yet caressing. So many boys, found her too odd to pay her much mind. The only one which did was her mother's apprentice and when nobody was looking Travis had been always cruel. But here was a boy who seemed so very kind and even funny. Feeling powerful for once, Beatriz could not help but take the chance and advantage of the opportunity.

"T-this," she drew closer and pounced.

His little playful hum of joy at the shy touch of her lips was all the encouragement she needed. "Oh..." He sucked in a gasp, parted as she pressed hers against his again then again. Never had she done this before and even if it felt a little clumsy at first, what little awkwardness that was between them melted soon away to the heat of their increasing shared quick breaths.

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**(Please feel free to comment. I enjoy feedback.)**


	3. The Nightshades: Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

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**(Warning: I choked up a little during writing this chapter. So you may need a tissue too.)**

His hand upon her cheek told him what was coming more so than his at the moment useless eyes or her stammering word. Cicero felt then heard her knife drop from his throat to clatter upon the wooden floor. With it his fear and concerns fell away too. All that remained was desire and a burning curiosity. He never thought his first kiss would come to him like this. But it was welcomed all the same, even though he knew only of her name, the sound of her sweet struggling voice and so very little of her face. Yet he was content for now to learn the feel and taste of those slender lips.

Teasing them back his left hand opened and closed. Unsure where to go till he decided to cautiously rest it upon Beatriz's hip. Squeezing gently, silently telling her not to stop. Encouraged she did not and he felt her stretch to tip toes to wrap her arms over his shoulders. Dropping his hand from her face, he slipped both of them next to the small of her back. Pulling her into a tight hug as a new urgency grew within him.

A small part of it was to wiggle free and make a run for it. Since if the Listener caught them like this, Cicero was pretty sure he would face serious consequences. Breaking at least one of the tenets although as of yet technically he was not disobeying his superior. Or so he reasoned as he gave into the denied and forbidden that was the Listener's, not so innocent after all apprentice. Beatriz still could not see him, at least not clearly as he could only see so much of her as well. And when she asked who he was he gave the lie the Listener provided easily.

Regardless the other and larger part of him wanted more. Not just kissing but to simply get to know her better. Seemingly meek but full of surprises, he wondered what others she had in store. Cicero could only hope to deliver more messages to their Mistress or even a contract to bring him back at least once more to Bravil. To Beatriz but for now Cicero tried to push all worries and daydreams of such things aside. To focus upon the here and now, Beatriz's lips and the clean and somehow cooling taste of them. As if she had just munched upon a few carrots for a snack.

When her tongue at last shyly sought and met his Cicero trembled. It took all his self-control to not rush in like a brute and taste her deeper. Instead he wanted to feel what she was going to do next. The slow, careful yet intense kiss alone was more than he ever expected. At the most he hoped to just share a few words, get her to laugh and leave her with a smile.

But a hard life taught him the value of keeping the bar low. Or better still to not expect much from anyone. Before becoming an assassin and since the bloody moment of his baby sister's birth Cicero still tried. He had tried so very hard to be good by hunting to provide coin from pelts and meat upon his family's table. All for his baby sister while helping his older brother keep their drunken abusive father in check.

Also Cicero knew from such an experience that surprises unlike the ones from Beatriz were for the most part unpleasant. Everything took work and failure could certainly result in despair and death. Just like how things did not work out for his father but at least now Cicero was here and alive. He was for the moment happy with just kissing Beatriz and being a part of a new family. His older brother, Ramiro was better suited to be a father to their baby sister anyways.

Cicero tried not to think about them or his life before the Dark Brotherhood. However in moments of calm such as now his older brother's painful last words haunted him.

_"You… he's dead Cicero. First Mother and now Father? As if what you did to her wasn't-"_

_"He struck her for laughing! Not me, HER! And he was going to hit her again!" _

_"Still how could you!"_

_"I promised! I promised Mother to keep her safe from harm!"_

_"Tell him to leave Ramiro! I told you he is unfit to be around Tullia. I told you!" Peronella his brother's new wife snipped and looked upon him with utter discust._

_Ramiro signed wearily, "You are right Nelly, of course."_

_Cicero tried to protest, "But brother-"_

_"I'm sorry Cicero but you must go and never come back."_

_When he moved to give his wailing sister one last hug, Peronella snatched her up shrieking, "Leave! Leave now or I'll summon the guards you filthy murderer!"_

_"Please just go brother. We'll take care of her now," Ramiro pleaded as his wife tried to calm Tullia._

_"Cic-Cic want Cic," the two year old girl hiccuped between sobs._

Cicero let out a small whimper against Beatriz's lips. The wails from his baby sister rang in his mind now as they did in his ears then. The stinging blush which had started upon his pale cheeks spread over his entire face. Mortified at the loss of control over his emotions the urge to flee from the room rose up swiftly in him again.

~.~

The moment Beatriz felt the Messenger's lips still, worry bubbled in her stomach. It felt as if he was fading away as the fire inside of him was dying down. When he started shaking, gave a small sad sound and tried to pull back she tightened her grip upon the front of his robes.

"Forgive me Beatriz, I should-"

"Stay," she whispered and heard him suck in a ragged breath. She listened as he kept taking one more after another. Each one seemed to give him some strength. Yet between upon exhales he still gave a small sound of pain. As she tried to think of a way to comfort him Beatriz insisted, "P-p-p-please stay. Don't la-leave just yet."

"Really? You really want me to stay? To not go? But if only you-"

"Yes," she interrupted and pulled him closer. Resting her cheek and hand upon his chest the hammering of his heart boomed in her ear.

Hugging her about the shoulders he struggled with something and confessed, "But I ruin everything. I'm a terrible-"

"Sta-stop it! D-d-don't even sssay that!" Beatriz winced at the hardness in her tone. Yet she could not stand him to continue, his self-loathing was so terribly clear. Shyly she reached to stroke his face and ask him why he would even think that but at his throat she felt the cut.

"Oh n-no! I … I hur-hurt you!" She moved to fetch him a healing potion. He clung tightly to her hand as she pulled him along. "S-sorry um…"

"It's just a scratch. I've been cut worse before," he sniffed but took the vial offered. "Still, I thank you."

After a time and hearing him set it down empty Beatriz wrapped her arms about his waist. Pulling him close again, she smiled. When he snuggled his face into her neck with a sigh it grew. At the hot tears she felt next it faded. Leaving her to hold onto him only tighter and worry over what was bothering him.

"You must think I'm a fool." He pulled back just enough to press his forehead against hers and sniff wetly.

"F-f-fools d-don't cry. They laugh sssilly," she weakly joked.

He snorted and did that funny humming chuckle again then teased, "Oh I'll make you pay for that."

"Wa-why? Whe-when la-laughter tastes better than pa-potion. It's all-always there to help ease pa-pain, d-don't you know?"

"I can think of at least one thing that tastes and feels far-far better."

"Oh? Wah-what?"

His lips coaxing hers to part but this time more was his answer. She felt a deep rumbling groan as her fingers checked then teased over the healed cut at his throat. Squirming in his arms she felt him slip deeper and demand more. Sucking back just as hard and eager she pressed closer as he moaned happily back. He felt and even tasted so very good. Trembling, Beatriz savored the sweet and spiciness to his kisses. At least until the apprehension of their Mistress possibly finding them finally set in.

"W-what if-"

"I don't care. Mistress said I should only _try_ not to be seen by you. It's dark now is it not?" His muffled yet playful words had caused something low and deep in her stomach to flip-flop about. His hands sliding to hips to cup her bottom set it wild. At her shocked gasp into his mouth he jerked them back to her hips. He even went so far to break the kiss to squeak, "Um Sorry! I-oh! Oh my! You're just as bad!"

Letting him know what he had done was more than welcome, she had settled for action rather than struggle with words. Quickly she ran her hands down his chest, sides and promptly squeezed his ass right back. "Shhh or sh-she wa-will hear us," Beatriz giggled, grasped her hands about his waist to pull him close and kissed him again before he could get any louder.

"You're so... unexpected... but... I like that! I really do," he mumbled out between soft and slow pecks. Pulling her down to sit in his lap on the closest chair they could find. He tucked an arm under her primly closed knees as his other hugged along her back to keep her upon it.

Beatriz relaxed when he kept his hands where they were at. Besides what happened earlier this boy seemed respectful and in no rush to take things too far. Instead he worked a trail of small light kisses along her jaw to her ear. When he started to nibble upon it Beatriz whimpered at finding out how very sensitive they were. How good it felt till she remembered he had yet to get to and puzzle over the tiny point to it.

"Mmm like that eh?"

She did but nervously started to squirm and when that did not work she spoke up. "Kah-kiss me, again."

She would have asked but always struggled over pronouncing the word please or any word that started with that particular letter the most. His soft chuckle tickled her ear and she swore she could feel him grinning as he whispered, "If that is your wish... then I'll oblige."

_His voice. His taste. Sweet divines, help me. I want him forever and always._

Or so she naively thought and let loose another nervous yet happy laugh. One he joined in on until he did as he was told. His gasps echoing hers as their hands once again started to wander. Mostly to dive in one another's hair or stroke tenderly a cheek, chin or ear.

~.~

The more time passed, the more Cicero's fingers tingled the very thought slipping lower. For now his right hand had moved from her knees to massage her left shoulder as his other teasing up and down her back. Holding his breath he debated over whether or not to dare brush his palm lightly over the rise of her modest breast. When she broke the kiss only to moan and catch her breath, Cicero with a sigh settled for keeping it where it was. His greater wish was to see her face, to watch carefully and know the moment he was taking it too far so he could stop.

The opening of the room's door suddenly made the wish moot. In their Mistress's eyes, he had indeed taken it too far. The dally with the Listener's Apprentice was coming to an end. And the Listener for the Dark Brotherhood was not in the least bit amused from the sounds of things.

Actually it was the lack thereof for she made none, at least at first. Probably in utter shock over how Cicero did not bother to flinch but instead stubbornly refused to stop what he was doing to her apprentice. Reasoning he was going to probably be killed for this, Cicero just simply closed his eyes tighter, stole one more kiss from Beatriz and awaited hopefully a swift death.

His dearest Beatriz however had other plans. She sprang up and out of his lap moments later as if he just cast a flame cloak spell. Shielding her face too from the bright light that spilled in from the hallway she scrambled to get between them and promptly spilled her guts. Surprisingly and fortunately she did not stammer much.

"M-mistress! I made him do it! I swear! P-p-please don't pun-punish him! I blew out the candles, sa-pa-prised him, p-put a knife to his throat. Told him to-to explain himself, he said he was your m-messenger and-"

"That is enough Beatriz. Yet from the look of things he did not appear upon my arrival terribly put out by your demand." The Listener's voice was utterly calm and collected as Cicero jumped to stand. Her hands folded behind her back as she slowly made her way around the two of them.

Cicero felt terrible as he heard Beatriz start to cry but dared not to look up. He only risked taking her hand as it bumped his. And he wanted to smile in bittersweet joy when she squeezed it back and struggled to collect herself.

"D-don't pun-pun-p-punish him! M-mis-misss-tress p-please."

She kept on speaking as the Listener just remained silent as the Night Mother to the rest of her children. Every word she uttered next was choked out. Cicero thought it must have only brought Beatriz more pain and embarrassment. Yet she would not stop.

And it was all done for him, the lowliest of assassins, brought into the fold for killing his drunken father. Who raged and understandably went mad at what his middle son had done. But Cicero had to do it. He always did what he was told and for mother always. He had to save his dearest sister, especially since his mother told him that everything would be all right. So as told he cut her out.

_"Good boy Cicero. My good boy. You did the right thing. I'm so proud of you. So very-very proud of… my brave boy! She's so…"_

_"Mother? Mother no! No! You said-you said everything would be... Oh Mother! No please! NO! Don't go!"_

Pushing the painful memories of his mother's last words and the anguish came next; Cicero finally dared to meet the Listeners eyes. Scowling and tightening his grip upon her apprentice's hand he whispered, "Please no more, sweetest Beatriz. Wipe away those tears for I think our Mistress has _listened_ enough and understands perfectly. I thank you but trouble yourself no further upon me, for I do _not_ deserve it."

But Beatriz would not listen. She only tried again and sobbed harder as her Mistress slowly pried her fingers loose from his. All the while she shushed softly and gently then pulled her apprentice away to the kitchen.

Cicero could not even bear to look now and see the pain which probably contorted Beatriz's flushed wet face. Instead he kept his head low. Did not even need to be told to remain and stood right there not moving one inch as the door closed behind them. The darkness enfolded around him once again. Only this time it gave no comfort. For this time he was now alone.

~.~.~

~.~

.

**(Please feel free to comment. I enjoy feedback.)**


	4. The Nightshades: Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

~.~.~

~.~

.

**(Warning: Again I choked up a little during writing this chapter. So you may need a tissue too.)**

The waiting and wondering what was going to happen next was the worst part. Cicero kept his eyes to the floor in shame. It festered inside of him over what happened. Mentally he berated himself to pass the time. All the while he absently wiggled his toes inside his beat up, simple black, leather boots. They just started to hurt when the Listener returned alone. Only then did he cautiously meet her jaded eyes. Wanting to ask if Beatriz was feeling better but what he saw silenced him.

"You have greatly disappointed me and given what we do…" she let the chilling warning remain unspoken. To let his imagination go wild and ponder over just how stupid he was to think he could get away with even bending the rules.

"Come," the Listener turned away and led them back to her office. As they made their way up she explained, "I sent Beatriz home. You will stay away from her and may only see her by my say so. You will still be expected to protect her but as needed only. Do you fully understand now?"

"Yes Mistress," Cicero meekly promised. A part of him wanted to ask for how long but thought better of it. Instead he took comfort that the Listener was at least permitting him to lend aid to Beatriz like any Brother or Sister. For what reason again he wanted to ask but dared not press his luck.

"Good," She sighed out, sat down took out another sheet of parchment and started writing. Absently she rubbed at her wrinkled brow as she scratched away with the quill. Since Cicero was not told to sit down he remained standing respectfully and ignored his aching feet. It was not until Mistress Dupre sealed the new letter with wax, collected the first did she speak to him again.

"Now take these both to Rasha. The newest one outlines to your Speaker the… let's call it punishment over what has happened today. Oh but do not look so scared Cicero." Mistress Dupre muttered in frustration then added, "The Night Mother likes you for some dammed reason." Her face screwed up as if she did not want to say what came next. "She wants you to know she admires your," the Listener let out a growl then continued, "dedication. In time you will serve her even more closely. Help exert her will and uphold her ways. But know this Cicero, that when that time comes all your foolishness will and must come to an end."

_As a future Listener perhaps? Humm… no wonder Mistress is not happy. Not happy at all._

**He speculated and liked that theory very much. Giving a short and serious nod Cicero inquired, "Is there anything else, Mistress?"**

"Just one more thing who was Didiah?"

A shiver ran through him as his heart clenched at the name. Feeling clammy and a little ill as the images of what he had done bombarded him. The feel of reaching in to pull life from death, one sacrificing scream gave way to weak and confused cries. Weaving he braced himself up by holding to the back of the seat he took earlier. Numbly he worked out, "Um… Why? Why do you want to know of her?"

The Listener leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and offered evenly, "Our Unholy Matron mentioned her."

"Oh?" Cicero blanched and shivered as the Listener noticed. Thankfully she did not press and just waited. Looking about he tried to remain calm.

"She… she was my mother," he managed to get out. And then, in the quietest of voices he told the Listener everything. To give her an idea on how wonderful it was to have a family and especially a mother again.

"My sister would not come into this world. My family were simple farmers, too poor for a midwife. Too far away from town for any healer to come and my… narrow minded and ignorant Father never allowed any of us to learn magic. Selfless, gentle and sweet my… my dearest mother told me to not let the child die. There was so much blood but well… after swaddling my new sister I tried to help my mother next. But it was of no use. So I did what I could to make her presentable for when father and brother returned. Cleaned everything up, they were still displeased." Cicero paused to give a pained and weak smile. "But I did as I was told. What my mother wanted and so my sister did not die."

With a pained look Mistress Dupre gently asked, "How... how old where you?"

"Almost thirteen Mistress, my sister was most unexpected. Mother too old really to be having more but she was so very happy about it. Even in the end before... before leaving she held her. Then Father did not take Mother's death well at all. No, not at all…" Trailing off Cicero could not hold the facade of cheer anymore. His face pinched in pain as he forced himself to continue.

"He was never happy after what I had to do. He would get drunk at times and hurt me for it. Oh! But I don't blame him for that. I don't! But when he tried to hurt my dearest sister I… well I promised my mother." Cicero swallowed hard and it took everything in him not to cry. "I vowed to never let my sister come to harm! He tried to but I stopped him. I may have gone too far. I didn't mean to and well… at least in the end one must look at it this way, he will never hurt her… ever."

He took a few breaths and thought back to how good it felt being held by Beatriz in the dark. How she told him to not go but stay. True she did not know any of this but someday he promised himself to tell her and prayed she would understand. It felt good to let it out in a strange way even now, to the Listener.

Regaining control Cicero felt a small smile return and finished with, "My brother Ramiro disagreed upon how I handled the problem," he paused, his face twisted in rage and he spat. "But then his new wife… Petronella did not help! Dammed Nelly! Went so far to tell him I should never ever return! To never ever see my dearest sister Tullia again!" Sucking in a breath then letting it out Cicero stuffed away the anger once again. Cheerfully he next reassured, "Oh but that is then and this is now. They take care of her now you see? Since I am here and obviously cannot. But all is well because I have a new family and hope to serve and keep you all so very well as if you were my mother or sister."

With a shaking hand slipping over her mouth from under it Mistress Dupre whispered, "That… that explains everything. Why she has chosen you." Dropping her hand next, she snapped out of the dazed expression she was wearing and in a soft tone ordered, "You're dismissed. And please, stay safe Cicero."

Cicero looked her over in confusion at her words. Noticing the shadows under his Mistress's eyes curbed his excitement over how she had just said he was chosen by the Night Mother. Genuinely concerned, he hesitated from leaving and worked up the courage to say, "Listener? Are you not feeling well? Is there anything that you need? Anything I may fetch or do for you?"

Mistress Dupre gave a little laugh. Cicero heard the force and nervousness in it as her thumbs circled one another. He was pretty certain she was talking to the Night Mother when she mumbled, "My even now he does it! A good match already too if..." Finally meeting his eyes she answered, "No I'm sure everything will be fine. Once this matter with the dealers is finished and we can reestablish what we have lost recently, I will sleep easier. Thank you Cicero."

He nodded and moved to leave but paused once again. "I have no right to request anything of you but if I may..."

Turning away from him and trying to collect herself, she gave a thick and stuffy chuckle. "Given that sting my little bee has put upon your neck, I'm feeling generous. Ask."

"I was wondering if any punishments that you would deem to befall Beatriz over what happened, I ask you give to me instead, please."

"No need, no punishment." Reaching the small window and looking out it she ordered, "Now go."

"But Mistress, there is just one more thing you should know of."

Straightening her spine and turning back to him she cocked a brow at him but still grinned and shook her head slowly. "You're really starting to push your luck again boy. It's best you begin your journey back to Cheydinhal."

Stepping forward Cicero got to the point. "Go I shall but I believe you would wish to know why Beatriz put that mark there."

"Oh besides you spying on her from the shadows?"

Cicero blushed, rubbed at his throat and pointed out, "Well yes there was that but actually she thought I was sent by someone to hurt her or do maybe more. Someone dressed as I. A woman, a Nord and by what name she did not say but did say it was about two weeks ago."

The Listener said nothing. Did not move or bat an eye. The humor only drained from them to nothing. Impenetrable as the Void and prudently, Cicero took a few cautious steps back. At one point she looked about to blow. Instead his Mistress came back from where ever her mind went but only a little. Her voice was too detached and terribly collected. It was as if the Night Mother herself stood before him.

"Anything else, Cicero?"

"No, I've told you all that I know."

Tilting her head to the side as if to listen, Mistress Dupre dutifully repeated the orders given to her by the Night Mother, "Go to the Lady Luck Statue and retrieve our sister Astrid. Tell her to return here with you."

Opening the door Cicero gave a nod, "As you wish and if she refuses Listener?"

"Then you must kill her but kill the Bard first."


	5. The Nightshades: Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

~.~.~

~.~

.

Walking home, alone in the dark Beatriz sniffed and smacked away the fresh tears with a frustrated growl. She hated how much before Mistress Dupre she lost control of her composure. Even more mortified than ever at her stammer. However she did not regret standing up to her for the sake of the Messenger Boy, in an attempt to take the full blame for what happened.

Shuffling her feet along the dirt paths of the street she still worried over what would happen to him. Even though Mistress Dupre never raised a hand to her, Beatriz was not blind to the fearful looks some gave to the older Breton woman.

It was just then when she thought her night could not get any worse a familiar voice came taunting from the shadows, "Oh Bah-bah-beatriz is tha-that you?"

Hearing Travis stroll up from behind, Beatriz felt a terrible yet ever recurring darkness bloom in her heart. One for her Mother's sake, she always tried to contain behind a small polite smile. But now away from her scrutiny, Beatriz let her fingers curled into claws as her mouth twisted into a bitter sneer. Still she struggled for control, to push away the anger laced with emptiness and thought bitterly.

_Oh what in Oblivion does he want now at this hour? Why can he not just leave me ALONE! Must not-don't hurt him. Mother would after all not be pleased. He'll only go to her whining and twist it around and point the finger of blame upon me._

But a sense of approval grew along with the long festering jealousy Beatriz had for the young man who took up so much of her Mother's time. The familiar and faint dry laughter echoed inside of her head a little louder. A comforting warmth enveloped her as the sound faded into the usual an indistinct murmur. One which seemed to encourage that she needed to just let go. To give into what she really wanted to do. The only real question was did she want to take things slow or end him quickly?

_If he were to die..._

Beatriz trembled in joy at just the thought.

Travis was, to put it simply, an overgrown Breton but also an incredible self-centered ass and bully. Unfortunately he was also her Mother's apprentice and spoiled rotten upon her doting. He was all smiles and charm through the years when everyone was looking. Yet in reality the Bard in training did not know the meaning of no or even genuine kindness. He took what he wanted, when he wanted and had a way of doing it while appearing to all completely blameless. For some reason he did not bother to try and fool Beatriz. She did not know if it was because she saw through his phony smiles, was his usual scapegoat or he just enjoyed someone who had to endure the real him. Maybe it was all of those reasons.

At first it started out with just rude words and making fun of her stammer as children when he was not pushing her about. But when Beatriz started to bloom into womanhood things changed. His gaze upon her as of late grew to more leering than disgusted. His disregard to her personal space Beatriz also did not care for at all.

"Wha-wha-where, oh where are you go-go-going?" He sang out and grabbed her arm hard just as she reached the court yard before the Lady Luck statue.

"Let me go," Beatriz stated calmly and did not bother to even look at him. Instead she looked for a guard but no thanks to the skooma dealers few bothered to patrol past sunset anymore. In fact few people dared to be out this late.

Travis ignored her and instead grabbed a hold of her chin and jerked it up. Seeing the slimy grin and the fact they were alone, Beatriz without hesitation attempted to smack it off his face. Catching her wrist in a tight and painful grip instead he taunted, "Now wha-why would I want to do that Bah-bah-beatriz? Especially when your Mother hopes I'll take your probably rough and usually dirty from the forge hand? But how about a kiss first before I let you use it on me!" He jerked her closer. Beatriz dug in her heels and could not hold back the yelp of pain. Control slipping away, the darkness grew as her eyes narrowed on his pursing lips.

~.~.~

Astrid watched on with a growing scowl as the Listener's apprentice cried out when the boy yanked her closer. Calmly she weighed the pros and cons of just leaving since Beatriz was not even crying out for help yet. In fact Astrid could see the fire in the little Imperial's eyes starting to grow. How Beatriz used the pain to fuel an inner strength to twist from his grip instead of giving into it. Astrid smiled as Beatriz managed to next shove the young man away and glare into his dull brown eyes.

_So the little rabbit has some fight to her after all. Good._

Astrid mused then set her jaw tight as an old memory snaked down her back leaving goose bumps and a sick feeling in its wake. Remembering her horrid uncle, Astrid felt herself honing in on the bard. Feeling the urge to kill grow to a point it was impossible to resist. And sorry excuses such as this young man were her favorite kind of prey.

~.~.~

Down the dimly lit street Cicero jogged to collect Astrid as ordered. When a short cry of alarm broke out, from where near the statue stood, it had his heart squeezing in worry and running faster. Reaching the turn he needed to take Cicero jerked to a stop and peeked about the corner. Even though instinct screamed for him to surge forward at what he saw, his training had him sinking into a practiced crouch.

Backing away from, what he guessed was the Bard, Beatriz's stammered, "I-I'm wa-warning y-you. G-go a-ah-way Tra-travis!"

Setting down his instrument and making a grab for her he taunted, "Or you'll do what rat face? You should be grateful I'm paying you any attention at all!"

As Beatriz ducked and rounded about Travis, Cicero's lips pulled back into a savage grin. Teeth gritting as he rushed to get closer. Using shadows to hide his approach, he hoped for a surprise and all the more deadly attack but stumbled then fell upon another lurking in the dark instead. Feeling familiar robes and generous breasts Cicero quickly snatched his hands away.

His voice went shrill in whispered embarrassment, "Apologies Sister! But why do you hesitate to lend the Apprentice aid?"

"I was just about to," came her annoyed retort as she shoved him off and punched him in the stomach hard. Getting into his face she snarled, "And don't ever touch me like that again, Brother. Are we clear?"

"Very," Cicero peeped out and struggled to get up and take in another breath. All he could for the moment was watch as the Breton smirk at Beatriz and then lunge after her again. Turning and noticing the woman glaring at him was a Nord he asked, "You're Astrid, correct?" The woman's pale eyes widened and not to waste time Cicero explained between gasps of air, "The Listener, knows what you did. Rather displeased, I am here to collect you."

"I'd like to see you try." When Cicero grimly drew his blade in exasperation Astrid threw up her hands and added, "Look... I told that stupid girl not to breathe a word! Why if he doesn't kill her I-"

Easily Cicero lied, "Whatever for? It was I who saw everything, I who told our Mistress. Whatever were you thinking?"

Eyes narrowing Astrid probably in disbelief snorted, "How was I supposed to know she was the Listener's apprentice? She's lucky I didn't kill her for trying to sneak into our Mistress's house."

Giving a casual shrug Cicero reminded, "Humm well it's of no matter now. What is done is done and you're as good as dead unless you help-"

"Hey! Put that down you little runt!" Travis shouted out.

The two assassins guiltily jumped and remembered their task. They also looked just in time to see Beatriz with a snarl break the Bard's lute over her leg.

"No! I wah-warned you! I've ha-had e-enough of... of you ka-calling me na-names and pushing me around! And... and ka-keep your dam hands off of me! Or you're next!"

"You destroyed it! You stupid stuttering BASTARD!" Screeched the Bard and he charged only to be clubbed with what was left of his own instrument. Beatriz missed his head but upon the second returning swing she went for and connected with the side of his knee. Falling to his other and after a yelp of pain he still boasted, "Oh you'll pay for this! This will make turning your whore of a mother against you all the more easier! You're going to-"

"Wha-what did you call my Mother?"

Cicero watched and noted as the fury in Beatriz's eyes grew the more her stammer went away.

"Never mind. I'm growing tired of tha-this. Tired of waiting. Tired of being oh so good. In fact I'm going to enjoy this."

Admiring her caution slipping away and confidence blooming, Cicero smirked as the Bard's first hint of fear flashed over his face. Beatriz let go, dropping the neck of the lute before slowly bringing up her hands with a grim look of concentration. Flames flickered and lit her palms with a readied fiery destruction spell. She then softly encouraged, "Come Travis. What did you call her? Go on. Sssay it again!"

Stupidly, the over confident Breton continued to bait her. "You heard me! She's nothing but a tavern whore! She told me all about your real father. Oh boo-hoo how he doesn't even write to you. What does she expect for not waiting for him till the end of the Great War and spreading her legs to that dam dirty Wood Elf you call Papa? Flames? Ha! You think you can hurt me with your little flames rat! I wonder if it was your teeth or those ears that made your real father doubt-"

Beatriz did not let him finish nor was it with a little amount of fire. Breton or not, Travis started to scream and try to get away. With a feral smile Beatriz put every bit of magikca she had into the spell until spent, her arms dropped. What she did next had Cicero and Astrid blinking in surprise. Beatriz started to giggle and it grew louder to each of Travis' cries of pain and fear as he ran around in a panic to try and put himself out.

Cicero turned to Astrid with jaw dropped. Chuckling and grinning she pointed out, "Looks like the little apprentice doesn't need our help after all."

"Little no, clever oh yes," Cicero mumbled and turned back to the Bard still dancing about with his clothes alight before thinking to stop, drop and roll. In all fairness Cicero agreed, the sight was indeed quite funny.

The stench of burning hair and flesh filled the air as Beatriz's laughter died. At the smell she slapped a hand over her mouth. Cicero watched her eyes grow huge, taking in the full reality of what she had just done. Gagging and in a full panic she made a run for it.

Cicero turned back to Astrid and sighed sadly, "She's still not ready."

"Or she's being prudent. Although I doubt the guards will come at all. If they are too busy getting high they at least know not to ask questions," Astrid argued and started to play with her dagger.

Noticing how she eyed the Bard had Cicero tactfully suggesting, "Making sure Beatriz returns home safe would perhaps put you back in our dear Listener's good graces, would it not sister?"

Stabbing the curved blade in the direction of the young man she pointed out, "I could think of something even better."

Cicero did not miss the blood lust in the Nord's cold eyes as they honed in on Travis who moaned but was so still now in the wet grass. When she started to move, Cicero grabbed her arm firmly. What she saw in his burning stare had her freezing in her tracks.

"Oh-oh him? Oh yes! But under our Mistress's order _I am_ to… take care of him. Not you," his voice deepened and wavered on those last words before leaping to a joyful and high snicker. Falling into a hum Cicero next had his gaze turning back to the Bard. Letting her go he coaxed, "Do as I suggest and then meet me later outside of our Listener's home. For this I'll help temper her wraith. Go now, see Beatriz safe to her mother and stepfather. I shall also try not to be too long."

Squeezing the hilt of his ebony blade and laughing softly again in wicked anticipation he made his way cautiously over to the bard. Astrid must have agreed to the bargain for she did not stop him. He did not know if she even hesitated when released but nor did he care.

Instead all Cicero could see was the smoldering bully of a bard lying whimpering in the grass face down. Strangely it was not green but red. Everything in fact was red as Cicero strolled up to him and grabbed a handful of what was left of his hair and clothing. Ignoring the weak struggles and protests, Cicero pulled his prey easily along into the brush. All to hide them away so if the guards did come by to investigate, which was doubtful, they would see nothing. They would instead move along and most importantly try not to interrupt and steal his easy but oh so rewarding catch away.

Jerking the Bard's head back Cicero took a moment to admire the damage. He was indeed burned terribly. No longer was Travis a pretty boy at all in thanks to his Beatriz's flames spell. True it was a weak and simple one, more than he could ever do but still it almost did the job. In the end Cicero felt he was doing Travis a kindness really. Astrid, like his childhood literal fool for a friend Atticus seemed the type to draw things out. He on the other hand enjoyed the opposite. This would be as always quick and precise. One flawless stroke was his dark art and terrible joy. The bard moaned then growled. He struggled feebly in Cicero's grasp yet there was still a spark of arrogance in his eyes. One that Cicero happily snuffed out with a quick slice across his throat.

With the act done the red started to fade from Cicero's vision. Well most of it. He paid what sprayed upon the once again green grass little mind as well as the Bard's last gurgling song. Instead Cicero whispered just two words into the dying young man's ear.

**"She's Mine."**

It did not take much longer before Travis stopped choking. Now so still, Cicero regarded the young man's eyes and wondered if they were always so empty when not lit with dark thoughts of hurting others.

"No matter now. Find peace in the Void. Sing and play your songs there," Cicero whispered before pulling down his lids and letting Travis's quite dead body drop face down into the bloody grass. Calm again he gave a slow stretch, then rolled the Bard by his shoulders onto his back. Tapping at his lips with fingers and his others tightening about again on the grip of his blade Cicero fell into one deep practical thought.

_Humm… I do so wonder if the Listener is low on human hearts…_

_~.~.~_

_Thank you everyone for you kind reviews so far. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! ^.^_

_(Hugs for KayJo1, Guest and SpiritOfJazz 3)_


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